Bears Discover Fire

“Only the protocol is where,” said the Shadow. “Awhere-when point.” It seemed to enjoy answering her questions. It had stopped flickering and its speech was now in synch with its lip movements. Its movements looked familiar; gentle; graceful. I felt a certain proprietary affection for it, knowing it was an idealized verison of myself.

“What do they want?” Hvarlgen asked.

“To communicate.”

“Through you?”

“The communication will end the protocol. The connection is one-time only.” The Shadow looked directly toward us, but not at us. It seemed always to be looking at something we could not see. It was silent, as if waiting for the next question.

When nobody said anything, the image began to fade, ghostlike once again—

And the Shadow twisted into being in the bowl at my feet. It seemed even clearer than before. I could see stars behind it. It was like seeing the stars reflected in a pool, only I had the distinct (and uneasy) feeling I was looking up. I even checked the back of my neck with my hand.

That was it for the first day. We’d had three sessions, and Hvarlgen thought that was enough. Dr. Kim asked us to join him for 4-D Monopoly. He had a passion for the game with its steep mortgage ramps and time-release dice.

While we played, the lunies watched movies in Grand Central. We could hear gunshots and bluegrass music in the distance, all the way down the tube.

We began the next morning with a leisurely breakfast. I was still on moonjirky, but I had no appetite anyway. The poster over the coffee machine said D=77.

“How many hours until sunrise?” I asked.

“I’m not sure; somewhat less than seventy-seven,” Hvarlgen answered. But it wasn’t a problem. Even though Houbolt was no longer environmentalized for the lunar day, it would be comfortable for all but the six days of the lunar “noon”—and would probably have been manageable even then, in an emergency. According to Hvarlgen’s plan, Here’s Johnny was to arrive and take us off soon after sunrise.

Hvarlgen went down the tube toward the infirmary first, followed by me, followed by the lunies. East smelled like PeaceAble, indicating that Dr. Kim had been up for a while. He suggested that he be allowed to ask one question, and Hvarlgen agreed.

Me, I was just the hired asshole. I took off my pants and the bowl was slid between my feet. Ignoring me (or seeming to) the Shadow in the bowl twisted itself into nothingness. This time I didn’t feel sick. In fact, it was beautiful, slick and fast, like a whale diving.

“Is there a message for us?”

It was Hvarlgen’s question. I looked up from the empty bowl and saw the Shadow standing across the room—or across the Universe.

“A communication.”

“Are you conscious.”

“The protocol is conscious and I am the protocol.”

“Who is communicating with us?”

“The Other. Not a who.”

“Is it conscious?”

The Shadow said, “You are conscious. The protocol is conscious. The Other is not a where-when string.”

There was a long silence. “Dr. Kim—” Hvarlgen said. “You had a question?”

“Are you a Feynman device?” Dr. Kim asked.

“The protocol is a two-device.”

“What is the distance?” Dr. Kim asked.

“Not a distance. A where-when loop.”

“Where does the energy come from?”

As if in answer, the Shadow began to flicker and fade, and I leaned over the bowl (even though I no longer believed that the Shadow was inside of me). And like a dark whale surfacing, the Shadow twisted into its bowl. I wondered how such a tiny space could contain a space so huge.

While the lunies cleared the room, and Hvarlgen hurried down to Grand Central to make a phone call, I pulled my chair over to the bed and sat with Dr. Kim.

“I see it’s no longer accessing our universe through your butt,” he said. “Maybe it has what it needs.”

“Hope so,” I said. “Meanwhile—what’s a Feynman device?”

“Have you ever heard of the EPR paradox?”

“Something to do with Richard Feynman?”

“Indirectly,” Dr. Kim said. “The EPR paradox had been proposed by Einstein and two colleagues in an unsuccessful effort to disprove quantum physics. Two linked particles are separated. The ‘spin’ or orientation of each is indeterminate (in true quantum fashion) until one is determined, up or down. Then the other is the opposite.

Instantaneously.”

“Even if it’s a million light-years away,” Hvarlgen said, from the doorway. She rolled into the room, shutting the door behind her. “I told Sidrath about your question. He liked it.”

“It was never answered.” Dr. Kim shrugged.

“In other words, we’re talking about faster-than-light communication,” I said.

“Right,” said Dr. Kim. “Theoretically, a paradox. It was Feynman who proved that the paradox wasn’t a paradox at all. That it was true. And that FTL communication was, at least in theory, possible.”

“So that’s what our little isn’t is,” I said. “A muon bridge.”